


Crocheter's Guide To The Zombie Apocalypse

by SilenceOfTheBlackRoseDragons



Category: Crocheter’s Guide To The Zombie Apocalypse, Original Work
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Female Character, Blood and Gore, Crochet, F/M, Guns, Human Settlements, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Profanity, Nosocomephobia, Pro LGBT+ Work, Survival, Trans Male Character, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 20:38:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14410125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceOfTheBlackRoseDragons/pseuds/SilenceOfTheBlackRoseDragons
Summary: Isolated! Fourteen grueling months into the zombie apocalypse, Savannah Hampton ventures out to find supplies for her small encampment, only to come across a dog. Taking this dog out to a park the next day, she discovers she isn’t alone. What happens after changes the course of human history and her simple life - forever.





	1. A Change In The Tide

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, thanks for taking a look at my original work! Please enjoy reading through, and leave comments, constructive criticism, or anything else you feel like putting in the comment section. Also, please share with your friends, discord server members, and anyone else who might be interested. 
> 
> I plan on including crochet instructions at the end or in the notes here. I will also include YouTube tutorials. Please take a look at these, considering crochet is a post-apocalyptic life skill in high demand. 
> 
> Updating will be sporadic at times. I am a high school student about to graduate and move on to my local technical school for college. I appreciate every little view, kudo, and comment, and it keeps me writing. 
> 
> I also would love to see fanfiction written. Just tag it in the fandoms tag as “Crocheter’s Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse” and possibly gift the work to me if possible. 
> 
> Thanks so much!  
> \- Lex

I was sixteen when the dead rose. 

Seven months later, I was the last survivor of my group of twenty people. 

I holed up in a school. Supplied with food, water, weapons, and medical supplies, I managed to stay alive for seven months. Using a gas powered generator, I had almost everything I could ask for. 

Except for a friend. 

Loneliness was the one thing zombie movies failed to express. Yes, I managed to crochet away most of my days among security checks, scavenging trips, and book reading, but that was only so much.

Fourteen months after dead things weren't dead anymore, I had the chance encounter most people in the Before would take for granted.

It was a beautiful spring morning. The sky shined bright, the birds sang happily, and the alarm on my clock squawked like a parrot. I got up and checked the school's perimeter. I had built up quite a fortress, and I intended to keep it intact. 

Afterwords, I read a few chapters in my novel, organized my food stash, and cleaned up the classroom I called home. I changed into my bullet proof vest, and I armed myself. 

My nines were my best friends, at least for now. I kissed them before holstering them in my belt. My butterfly knives also made it to my weapons roster. 

I locked up my room and reset all my traps. I gave one last look to my home before I trekked out to the parking lot. I jangled my keys against my thighs, watching my surroundings.

And there she stood. My black Chevy Silverado stood in the parking lot. She gleamed in the sunlight, and my heart sang. My pride and joy was my truck. A king cab and lift kit comfortably above the factory standard, my girl was my only mode of transportation besides my feet. 

I cranked her and smiled at the gauges on the dash as they reset. She was a good truck, and I loved her deeply. I drove out of the parking lot carefully. 

I drove straight to the first gas station on my map. I stole some gas from the pumps. I noted that I would have to expand my search. Fuel was running low. Following that, I checked the convenience store. 

Knocking on the counter, I awaited a corpse to stumble around a shelf. And sure enough, the telltale guttural growl of one echoed across the store. It shuffled into view, too decayed to determine sex, race, or even what killed it. Its skin sleuthed off of it in sheets, and I swallowed down vomit. 

Bang!!! The shot from my left gun echoed across the store, and the walking corpse fell in a heap. I took a moment to take a deep breath before I double checked the store. I ransacked the supplies, taking them to the truck in armfulls. Every time I came to the dead one, I casually stepped over it. 

I cleared away the snacks and goodies through the stores. I even grabbed the cigarettes. Trading objects just in case would prove the difference between life and death. I finished up, and I spray painted a red X over the doors. 

I got in my truck and drove back to the school, taking my time, feeling small and lost in the scenery. I saw something out the corner of my eye. A dog was trotting along the side of the road. This peaked my interest. The dog watched me drive by, and I parked a few feet in front of him. He wagged his tail and bolted for me. I opened my door and let him jump in. 

Licking and whining, the dog greeted me in a fury of wiggles. I smiled and gave him much needed belly scratches. He settled down in the passenger seat beside me. 

I took him home and fed him after unloading my haul. I bathed him, and I gladly accepted all the kisses and jumps on my thighs he gave me. 

I wasn’t alone anymore. 

I ate dinner that night, tossing my new friend peas and carrots from my can of mixed vegetables. His big brown eyes seemed more at ease. 

He was a pitbull mix, the massive build on this dog a classic tell of the breed. He was neutered. His brown fur was getting everywhere, but it didn’t seem to bother me or him. 

I flopped down on my bed, armed with my crochet hook and my yarn. Super bulky size 6 yarn had proved to be a favorite of mine. The dog flopped down at my feet. 

“What should I call you?” I asked him softly, scratching his head. 

“August?”

Nah.

“Pedro?” 

Didn’t seem like a Pedro. 

“Dingo?”

No good news from down under.

“Steve?” 

Clearly not a Minecraft fan.

“Rex?”

The dog lifted his head and thumped his tail against my cot in interest. I smiled at him. 

Must be a Star Wars: The Clone Wars fan. 

“Well hi, Rex. My name’s Savannah Hampton. I guess I’m your new owner,” I spoke to him softly. 

He made a soft woofing sound and licked my hand. I pulled my long red hair into a ponytail and began working on my crochet pillow. I played soft music as I worked on a few rows.

A double crochet stitch involves yarning over, inserting the hook into the top of the previously made stitches, and yarning over again. After that, one pulls the yarn through the first two loops, yarns over again, and pulling through the last two loops on the hook. Doing this over and over again became second nature, and often, I found myself awaking in the middle of the night and doing the motion in my sleep. 

I crocheted maybe twenty or so rows. I was really close to being done with this project. The yarn I had chosen was apparently pretty common, and I had several more skeins in my stash. I looked up, and Rex dozed on my foot. For a moment, I contemplated continuing, but I decided not to. I turned out the lights and put away my crochet things. 

Tucking myself into bed, I turned on my ambient music that helped me sleep. Rex licked his jowls and curled up at my side. He yawned.

I closed my eyes and had the best sleep since Before.


	2. A Walk In The Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, things go off from here. Savannah meets a new friend taking Rex on a park trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, two chapters in one day! This is a good thing! I hope this staves you guys off.

I woke up the next morning to Rex licking my face. I almost shoved him off, but I laid there, accepting the snuggles and kisses from my new pal. Today seemed like a great day to explore. We ate breakfast, and to my surprise, Rex didn’t beg for food from me. He was too busy nomming down on some kibble. I showered and cleaned my guns, and then we set off. I grabbed a few things from a pet store, including some more dog food, a leash, a collar, and a few toys. 

My butterfly knives thumped against my thighs as Rex and I explored a local park. He insisted on sniffing everything. We ambled around, taking out walking corpses as we went. Suddenly, we heard arguing. 

Before us was a fist fight. A Latino guy and a big strong brute were having it out, throwing punches and screaming at one another. I paused, and Rex made a soft bork noise that startled the men. 

Exchanging a look with my four legged companion, we rushed the two men, prying them apart. Rex tore into the brute’s leg, and I shove the Latino away. Then the brute pulled out a gun, and a shot rang out. The Latino fell on the ground, and in an instant, I plunged one of my butterfly knives into the throat of the brute. For a moment, complete disbelief crossed his face before the light died from his dark brown eyes. 

He crumpled to the ground in a gurgling heap as blood flowed forth from the stab wound on his neck. Rex snarled at him, and I kicked the gun away. I turned to check on the other guy. He sat on the ground, panting hard. 

“My name is Savannah Hampton, and I’m here to save you,” I told him. “Where were you shot?” 

“My left ankle,” he grumbled, shifting as I knelt beside him, administering first aid. 

“Alright, I think it’s just a flesh wound, but there’s slight muscle damage from what I see. I need to clean this real quick. It’s gonna hurt!” I said as I doused the injury in rubbing alcohol. 

The man screamed. “Ah jeez that hurts!!!”

“Of course, it will. I need to get you to my truck,” I wrapped up his wound. “Come on.”

I helped this man to the truck, and Rex climbed in the back seat. I retrieved my knife and scavenged supplies from the dead man. As walking corpses closed in, I jumped in the truck and drove away.

Driving as safe and as fast I could possibly do, I quickly explained to my patient what was going on. I planned to take him back to my encampment and treat his injuries. Either he could agree, or I could drop him off on the side of the road.

“Well, miss, I suppose I’m going to have to accept your help. The name’s Jake,” he chuckled softly. “Jake Cross.” 

“Nice to meet you. The dog’s name is Rex, by the way,” I told him, sitting down. 

“Hi, Rex,” Jake mumbled to my dog, who borked hello. 

Once home, I helped Jake inside. Rex stayed with him while I got ready to formally treat his wounds. Jake sat still for me while I cleaned up the wound and the surrounding skin. I applied Neosporin and wrapped up his ankle. 

“May I have something to eat?” Jake asked, looking up at me with adorable brown eyes. 

“Yeah, no problem,” I smiled at him. 

I fetched him a few granola bars and a bottle of spring water. I myself had some canned tuna and a soda I had pilfered. 

“Explain this to me,” he waved at the stuff around the room.

“Well, seven months ago, I found this place. And then I found this dog yesterday on a scavenging trip. Here I still have water, power, and plenty of food. And I spend a lot of my time crocheting,” I explained to him how I arrived here. “You know you can’t stay here for free, right?” 

“Of course.”

“Then you’ll learn to crochet while you recover,” I informed him. “We’ll get started tomorrow. I have a few things I need to take care of.” 

“Which are?” He cocked his head to the side, eyeing me close.

“Can I not go organize my food stash? What are you, my husband?” I asked, full of sass.

“Touché,” he mumbled.

***

I came back to my room to find Jake sitting in my bed, reading my crochet journal. I squeaked and slapped it out of his hand. He paused and looked at me.

“Don’t go through that,” I stated, firm and aggressive. 

“Is that personal or…?”

“Yeah, it is. It’s my journal. It’s private,” I barked, back of my neck hairs bristling something fierce. For some reason, that angered me to a degree I don’t think I’d ever been to. “Don’t look at it,” I insisted.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, dipping his head in humility. 

“Sorry, I should’ve explained that earlier. You didn’t know,” I sat back on my bed, smiling at him. “It’s fine. It’s no big deal.”

He sighed and started studying the stitches on the blanket I had made. He seemed pretty content, sitting on the bed. Rex gave me a few nudges with his nose, and I threw one of his new toys for him. We did this quite a few times. Rex eventually got tired and flopped down on the bed beside me. 

I chuckled to myself and got started crocheting the pillow again. I changed colors, going from Tampa Spice to Fort Worth Blue in Lion Brand yarn. My nine millimeter crochet hook raced through the stitches, and Jake watched me go through about twenty rows of stitches before I stopped, wrists aching. 

I changed to reading, and Jake borrowed my well worn copy of the fourth Harry Potter book. We sat and read until it got really dark outside. We split a container of Pringles before bed. I set Jake up in a spare cot, which he gladly fell into. 

For the second night in a row, I slept as well as I did Before.


	3. The Storm Settles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But changes still come.

Jake, Rex, and I fell into a routine. We would wake up, eat, clean, and go out. Until Jake healed, I found things to do around the camp. Mostly, I focused on teaching him to crochet. I assigned him some books I had read to teach myself, and I found a dvd with a bunch of pirated YouTube tutorials on crochet. Rex stayed at Jake’s side, a welcome companion.

“Can you tell me about your family?” I asked Jake a few days after he had arrived.

“Well, my moms, they served in the army together. That’s how they met. I was adopted. We lived all over. And then this happened while we were looking at a house here,” Jake explained. “We got separated.”

“Wow. You have two moms,” I stated. “Cool.”

“I’m also transgender. I was born a girl,” Jake explained, lifting up his shirt to expose top surgery scars. 

“That must be hard,” I said to him, sitting beside him from my spot by the cabinets of food. 

“Eh, I have a testosterone blocker in my arm. Mom and Ma made sure to grab a bunch of extras from the doctors office. I have them in my pants pocket right there,” Jake took out a small box.

“When do you need another?” I looked at the box in interest.

“Not for a few years. Mine last for about five years,” he shoved the box back in his pants.

“Well, I don’t really think it’s a big deal. I would’ve never known if you hadn’t told me,” I shrugged, going back to reviewing my stockpile of food.

“What about you?”

“My family?”

“Yeah. You asked me first. Now I’m intrigued.”

“I had parents, a brother. We got separated about seven months ago. There was a man who hunted our group. We had twenty or so odd people. I think I’m all that’s left,” I sighed. “Before, I had an abusive boyfriend, some problems with up here.” I tapped my forehead. “But I’m okay now. No reason to have low self esteem when no one is taking showers.”

“I saw some of your clothes. Did you sew together those… bras?” Jake cocked his head at me.

“Eh, I did. Hard to find bras that’ll fit. I have a small sewing kit in that box over there,” I pointed at a plastic tub. 

Jake shrugged. “They look pretty nice. You did well.” 

“Maybe I could sew you together something. It’ll be another thing to teach you while you recover,” I joked with him, nudging his shoulder with my hand.

***

Jake and I found an easy rhythm between us. Once he healed, we went out on scavenging runs. Scalping various places, we hauled in tons upon tons of supplies. It was June when we started noticing the different paints along with our red X’s on place we had scavenged. 

“Blue paint,” Jake touched the door to the convenience store we had found. “Someone’s getting a little too close to our home.”

“Agreed. We might want to set up surveillance,” I stated, looking out over the parking lot. “Watch out!”

An SUV drifted past us, and I caught the face of the driver in my view. Jake and I took off running to the truck. The passengers of the SUV jumped out, aiming assault rifles to our backs. 

“Stop! We just want to talk!” a voice called to us. 

“Who’s asking?” I turned on my heel, guns drawn.

“My name is Bradford, these are my companions, Leslie Jackson and Arin Wilcox,” the first to speak was a moderate sized man in dark clothing. He referred to a black woman with bright pink in her hair and an older man with military tattoos. “Drop your weapons, please. We’ll do the same,” Bradford said calmly. 

“Wilcox, any relation to Jackson Wilcox?” I asked, squeezing the handles of my nines tightly in my palms.

“He’s my son,” the man identified as Wilcox spoke. 

“What do you know about Jackson?” Leslie lowered her assault rifle barrel. 

“He was my best friend. Is he still alive?” 

“You’re Savannah Hampton!!!” Bradford’s gaze widened. 

“Yeah, and?” I cocked my head. Then I paused. “How do you know who I am?”

“Your mother, Regina, she’s alive!” Leslie stated enthusiastically. “We’ve been searching for you!”

“My mom’s alive?” I stood still, a look of shock painted across my face. 

“She’s living in a settlement in the middle of Lake Worcester. We have about a hundred and forty people in our settlement. Hold on,” Bradford pulled out a walkie talkie. “Team Red to base, over.”

“Is this Bradford over?” The voice on the other side of the walkie said. 

“Yes. We have located Madam Hampton’s daughter, over.”

“Bring her home ASAP. Base out,” the voice over the walkie crackled. 

I took a moment to take in the situation. One: Mom was alive. Two: these people knew where she was. Three: Mom was at least of high enough status to have people looking for me. Four: safety and security came with these people.

“May we join your encampment?” I asked, rolling the figurative dice. 

“What? Savannah, we don’t-” I raised my hand to cut Jake off.

“We can take you back to your place and grab whatever supplies you still have left over, if you’d like us to,” Bradford offered, giving me a gentle smile. 

“Then let’s go.”

***

Rex greeted me as I opened the door to the classroom. I pushed him out the way with my foot as the other came in with rolling carts. We took the food first, and it pained me to see my food supply dissipate in the matter of fifteen minutes. My books came next, and my crochet items followed. 

Rex seemed confused by all this, and Jake was more than uncomfortable. I understood why. Things were changing rapidly. 

“You did this all by yourself?” Bradford asked, unhooking the generator.

“All by myself. Jake only came in a few weeks ago,” I picked up the last box of clothes.

“Wilcox is done unloading,” Leslie came up behind me. “Good thing you decided to come with us. There’s a horde of walking dead coming this way.”

“Yeah,” I said solemnly. 

Jake, Rex, and I piled into our truck as Wilcox strapped down a tarp over the plants we had dug up. I had a decent vegetable garden. Now it would be going to the encampment. 

One last look, and we were off.


	4. Growing Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrival at New Eden Sanctuary.

The group lead Jake, Rex, and I to Lake Worcester. The lake was artificial, and it had a hydroelectric dam keeping all the water in and providing power to the towns around it. It spanned two counties, and it had numerous little islands rich people build houses on. There were a few self sustaining neighborhoods on a few island, a pilot program for places all across the country. But that was Before.

“Whoa,” Jake stated, looking out the window. 

Before us sprawled an immense gate, and it was heavily fortified. Two guard towers overshadowed us, and gun barrels poked out of the tops. Two armed guards moved to speak with the group that led us here. I felt myself tense up until the gate’s doors swung open, and the guards motioned for us to drive through. 

The walkie Bradford gave me buzzed. “Savannah, we have a meeting with President Valdez. She’s our leader here in New Eden. Your companions will have to go into quarantine for forty eight hours. But you, you’ll be escorted to your mother’s residence on Island Mustang. Over.”

“Are all the islands named after cars?” I asked. “Over.”

“Correct. A series of bridges connect each island. The island we are heading to is Impala. Over,” Bradford explained over the radio.

“And this President Valdez, can I bargain with her about my conditions to stay? Over.”

“You’re in no position to bargain just yet. Wait until the interview,” Bradford said. “Moving truck, out.”

We pulled up in a circular driveway, in front of what probably was a community center Before. I stepped out, and two guards escorted Jake and Rex to a series of white tents that probably were medical tents. Bradford dipped his head at me and mouthed “good luck”. 

A group of five guards led me inside and through a maze of passageways. Finally, they showed me to an office. I stepped inside. 

A woman of Latina descent sat at a massive oak desk, shuffling papers around her desk. A woman stood to the right and left of her, making me the fourth person in the room. They all looked at me, and I realized I was outnumbered. 

“Savannah Hampton,” the Latina woman stood up, revealing she was dressed in a pantsuit. 

“I’m assuming you’re President Valdez,” I shook hands with her.

“Affirmative, young lady. Bradford debriefed me on your… circumstances. You survived on your own for seven months?” she seemed pretty interested in my situation. 

“Yes, ma’am. My companions only came into my life recently,” I confirmed. 

“Your mother manages all on Island Mustang. She’s been sending out search parties to find you. Team Red was explicitly tasked to retrieve supplies. How ironic,” Valdez turned and looked out the big window behind her that overlooked the lake. “My people look up to me. You will be an inspiration for them, you know. A seventeen year old girl surviving out there alone.” 

“It’s not really a miracle,” I stated. 

“But it will be to them.” 

“May I see my mother?” 

“After you tell me what exactly you did.”

“I scavenged. I pilfered stores. Same way anyone else would. And I played my cards.”

“That’s an awful lot of string. You crochet?”

“Yes ma’am. It’s a post apocalyptic life skill.”

“Consider yourself high ranking. You’ll take over for your mother one day. Prepare for this. Now. Go to her. Spend time with your family. They have been waiting a long time.”

“I killed someone out there, Ms. Valdez,” I told her. “His name was Eric.”

She turned and faced me. “His group had been plaguing us for months. He disappeared in April.” 

“He’s been dead for two months, ma’am,” I looked her straight into her big brown eyes. 

“Well, you’re a hero then,” she smiled softly, a mother’s smile. My heart throbbed in my chest. “Go to your mother,” Valdez stated. “Take your truck. She’s in the house labeled forty three seventeen. The bridge for Mustang is marked with the car emblem.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” I said, turning on my heel and racing to my truck. 

Flinging the door open, I cranked her up and sped off. The bridge to Island Mustang surely was labeled, and I drove across the bridge, speeding and kicking up dust. The choppy waves underneath lapped at the structure of the bridge. It only added to my anxiety.

I pulled up in front of the house labeled 4317, and I jumped out of the truck. I stormed up the steps, and I stopped. I knocked on the door

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Knocked again. 

A few seconds later, the door opened.

“Dahvie?”

“Savannah?”

My ex boyfriend stared at me. I looked at him with my eyes wide. He stepped back. 

“Is my mother here?” I demanded. “Answer me, you scumbag!”

“She’s in her office. Down the hall. Last door on your right.”

I shoved past him and tore down the hall like a Tasmanian devil. Nothing was coming between my mother and I. I flung her door open, and I sucked in a breath.

Mom sat at her desk, writing on a sheet of notebook paper. I cleared my throat. She looked up at me. We ran to meet each other in a strong embrace. The smell of my mother -gardenia bushes, cigarette smoke, and her pine tree oil shampoo- smacked me in the face like I had just swore in church. 

“Mommy,” I said softly, letting her go.

“Savannah, baby girl, you’re okay,” she cried through tears.

“Yeah, Mommy. I’m okay,” I stated softly. 

“My baby girl’s home,” she sniffled. 

We stood still, just hugging each other. I eventually let her go and sat down in one of the spare chairs. I took a deep breath and waited for the questions to start.

“You feeling okay? You want something to eat?” Mom asked, setting her drink on her table.

“Uh, yes ma’am,” I stood up and let her walk me to the kitchen. 

Mom presented me with a massive sub sandwich with tuna and hummus on it. I recalled lunch room food from school the moment I took the first bite. I used to get this sandwich often in school. Mom rubbed my back as I ate, and she also made sure I had a full glass of her sweet tea. I appreciated ever sip, every crumb, and every minute action. 

“Thanks, Mom,” I told her, looking up at her. “Why is Dahvie here?”

“After you and I were separated, I found him and his pregnant wife, Jessica, without much to survive on. I took them in, and we found this place not long after it had gotten started. Your friend, Jackson, and his parents joined our group as well. His mom is currently working on Impala, helping out President Valdez,” she went on. “Jackson’s upstairs if you want to check up on him.”

“Really?”

“Go ahead, honey. He’s missed you,” she nudged me softly. 

I walked upstairs and found Jackson’s room by looking at the plaques on the doors. Music filtered through the oak door. I knocked softly. 

The door opened, and my heart sang to the heavens.


	5. Turning Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Hold crochet hook in right hand and make a slip knot on hook. Bring yarn over hook from back to front and grab it with hook. Draw hooked yarn through slip knot and onto hook. This makes one chain stitch.” 
> 
>  
> 
> -How to Make a Chain Stitch, craftyarncouncil.com

Jackson stood there, shirtless, a look of pure disbelief across his visage. We stood there in uneasy silence, him looking down at me from his six foot three inch height difference. I gave him an awkward smile. He threw his long, tan, beefy arms around me and hugged me tightly. 

“Hi, vod,” I greeted him nervously. 

“Oh my God, you’re okay!” he halfway shouted in my ear. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I wiggled out of his grasp. 

“You look as if it was just yesterday. You were eating well out there, yeah?” he touched my stomach.

“Well, I was scavenging every day and…” I shook my head. “Go put on a shirt! You’re half naked in the hallway!” 

“Sorry, I was in the middle of getting dressed,” he threw on a regular t-shirt. “I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

“So… well, this is freakin’ awkward,” I shoved my hands in my pants pockets. “Dahvie had a kid?”

“A little boy, yeah. Cute little brat,” Jackson leaned against the door jamb, resting one hand over his pants pocket. 

“Wanna show me around?” 

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on then,” he put on his shoes and took me downstairs, where he grabbed a set of keys off the hook by the door. “Heading out, Auntie Regina! Takin’ Savannah with me!”

“Be safe!” Mom called. 

We went out to the garage, and Jackson got in the SUV, opening the door for me. I took a moment to admire the newer model Ford Explorer before climbing in. He turned on the radio to The Weeknd’s song “Wicked Games”. It took me back to my dad playing music in our living room. I swallowed down the urge to burst into tears. 

We drove around, Jackson explaining where everything was, how things worked, etc. Kids played in front yards, women pushed baby strollers, and men were out jogging. It seemed like life Before. We took the bridge to Island Denali, what Jackson referred to as the farm island. Less populated, but bigger than Impala at least, Denali cultivated food, cotton, and fresh meats. It had a beautiful view, and rows upon rows of growing plants stretched out in all directs. 

“Horses,” I whispered as we rode past a field with several really pretty horses in it. 

Jackson took me through the other residential island, Island Subaru. It was somewhat less populated than Mustang, but it still had the same feel. Jackson stopped in front of a small cottage. 

“Come on. You need some clothes,” Jackson stated, taking my hands and guiding me inside. 

A small statured woman busied herself by going through all different kinds of clothes in the living room. I could see her from the front door Jackson had opened with ease. She looked up and waved at him. She quickly approached us and ushered me into her living room. I could see mannequins, clothes, and clothing racks all organized in the small room.

“This is Melissa Petrov. She’s our seamstress,” Jackson filled me in. 

“Ahh, such a beautiful girl you are,” the woman spoke in a slight Russian accent. “Top heavy.”

“Yeah, no doubt,” I laughed. 

“Most women back in my home country would kill for such a rack,” she stated, measuring my waist. “Hmm, whatever you did out there, you sure kept yourself healthy.” 

“I was doing most of the heavy lifting,” I commented. 

“G thirty two,” she mumbled, going over to a bin and selecting a few intimate items. “These good, yes?”

“Uh, yes ma’am,” I stammered, a little embarrassed my guy friend was seeing my bras. 

“Pants size, hmm. Fourteen?” she offered me a few pair of blue jeans and some underwear to match the bras.

“Uh, thank you, Mrs. Petrov,” I said as she piled clothes in my arms. “I think this is enough.”

“Come around anytime you need clothing, yeah?” she patted my shoulder while my face flushed red. 

“Yes ma’am,” I said, hurrying out. 

Jackson opened the trunk for me. “No need to be embarrassed,” he nudged me with his elbow as I put the clothes in the trunk.

“That’s my secret, Jackson. I’m always embarrassed,” I muttered. 

Jackson took me home, and we sat down at the kitchen table. It was close to six pm, and I was starting to get hungry. Jackson’s mom, Jane came down and got started on dinner. I offered to help, but she turned me down. 

Dahvie’s wife, Jessica, whom I’d only seen in pictures, came downstairs, holding her son. The baby was a few months old, and he cooed and babbled away, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. I eyed him suspiciously, wary of anything that couldn’t articulate itself past mear crying noises. 

“Are you alright, dear?” Jane asked, touching my shoulder.

“Oh, nothing. I’m fine,” I jolted out of my thoughts. 

“Your companion called,” Mom walked in. “Jake’s had a panic attack in quarantine. They’ve sedated him, but he keeps talking about you.”

“Can I go see him?” I asked, standing up. 

“I’ll take her,” Dahvie walked downstairs. 

Together he and I ran across the bridge to Impala. I had to hold my chest the entire way… but what can you say when your chest isn’t on the American school grading system? We burst into quarantine, and several doctors ushered us to a small room, where Jake had curled up on a cot, sobbing softly. I darted over, collapsing at his side and carefully taking him to my chest. He buried his face into my bosom, and I comforted him, stroking the top of his head.

“Can we take him home early? Obviously this is too traumatic for him,” Dahvie asked the doctors. 

“Nosocomephobia,” Jake mumbled into my tits. 

“Fear of doctors and hospitals,” I stated. 

“Either way, we’re taking him home,” Dahvie grabbed the bag containing Jake’s things. 

“And my dog,” I stood up.

***

Dahvie and I brought Jake and Rex into the house. I took my friends upstairs, leaving Dahvie to himself. Jake found my room with ease, flopping down on the bed and beckoning Rex to join him. I tucked in my boys, making sure they were okay. I fetched Jake a plate of cookies and a cup of grape juice. He thanked me and ate, nodding off after he had finished. 

I sat at the desk, and I crocheted. I crocheted until my hands ached. Mom came in to bring me food, but I didn’t touch it until my thumbs throbbed and my wrists felt like needles slowly wormed their way into my skin. I ate the spaghetti Jackson’s mom had made. I took my plate downstairs, washed up, and changed into my pajamas. 

For once, I couldn’t sleep.


	6. Fox In The Henhouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Run that needle through a couple stitches, change directions and run it vertically, then weave it in the opposite direction. Going up and down and side to side will help to lock that baby in. Remember to always weave on the wrong side of the work. If you’re working with something like a scarf that doesn’t have a wrong side, just do your best to hide the ends as much as possible.”
> 
> -craftsy.com, How To Weave In Ends: Crochet

I didn’t sleep. At all. I spent all night crocheting. Rex occasionally lifted his massive head to check on me at about three fifteen am, but I shushed him and urged him to go back to sleep. He did so. It was nine am before I finally succumbed to exhaustion and gave in to sleep.

I woke up to find Jackson shaking me awake. He smiled down at me the moment my vision steadied. I leaned up and kissed his cheek. His hands found my waist, and he tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

“Ahem,” I heard Dahvie at the door.

I giggled softly, and I moved away to sit up and look dead at Dahvie’s disgusted face. He shook his head and turned away.

“We have to get going. Your mother wanted us to go scavenging,” Jackson nudged me. “You don’t have to, if ya don’t want to, babygirl.”

“I wanna,” I smiled slightly, looking up at him with love in my eyes.

“Then go get dressed,” he handed me a pair of shorts and a shirt.

I got up and made sure to check my nether regions because hello, I own a vagina. They have a tendency to bleed for one fourth of the calendar month. Luckily I was okay, so I got dressed in comfortable clothing. I strapped on my boots, and I stretched my arms.

I went downstairs and grabbed a banana nut muffin from the batch Mom had made last night while everyone must have been asleep. I also made myself a steaming hot cup of coffee.

I charged outside, beaming happily as my nines in their leather holsters slapped against my chubby thighs as I walked. Jackson and our team had already gathered around my truck. I recognized Dahvie’s back, and a few people I had seen on the front gate.

A caravan of cars left New Eden, heading out to a few mapped places. One was a costume store, and Jackson went in a grabbed a few *special* orders. While we waited, we all pilfered and rifled through all the surrounding stores.

Dahvie and I went into a big camping store. I took out my nines and banged them on the counter, the metal on metal ringing out and echoing across the establishment. Tell tale grumbles and groans and things falling told me the inevitable. Soon enough, two very decayed corpses waddled and stumbled forward.

“I got it!” Dahvie and I said in unison, and we drew out weapons, firing into the skulls of the corpses.

“Nice shot,” I stated, kneeling down in front of my kill, feeling for valuables.

“You too. You’ve gotten better,” he complimented, going through his kill’s pockets.

“Honey, I had to get good,” I mumbled, standing up to my full height and taking a look at the directory boards hanging from the ceilings. “Aisle six. Camping supplies. I’ll be there. Go get guns.”

“Aye, aye, boss,” Dahvie took off running.

I grabbed a cart and found the camping supplies. I shoved everything I could reach into the basket, and I dragged the cart to the waiting moving van. Jackson joined me for the next round, having completed his task. I took a few more cartloads of supplies to the moving van before we were alerted to a hoard of dead enclosing on our current location.

We formed a circle around the vehicles. Dahvie was on my left. Jackson was on my right. I drew out my weapons and made sure I had for clips. Dual wielding guns were a past time I appreciated.

As the dead cam in range, I was one of the first to let out a firestorm of shots. Booms rattled across the parking lot, and corpses fell into crumpled mounds of rotten flesh and bodily fluids. In all, fifty dead ones littered the parking lot.

I lowered my weapons and took a deep breath. On my own before I came to New Eden, a fifty strong herd of dead would’ve been a death sentence for me. But with my twenty strong team of scavengers, it was an even match by far.

“Let’s head home,” Jackson put his arm around my shoulder.

He and I walked to my truck. I heard someone discharge a bullet, and I turned around just as Jackson’s shoulder exploded in a burst of blood and tissue. He collapsed beside me, and I screamed. Falling to his side, first aid training kicked in, and I ripped my shirt, tightening the strip of fabric around his shoulder joint.

“Fuck fuck fuck, Jackson, I’m sorry!!!” One of the guys I didn’t know shouted as Dahvie snatched the gun from his hand.

“Medic! Medic!” I called out, and my team’s nurse fell to her knees on the ground beside me, administering aid.

My hands covered in blood, I stood up and whipped around faster than I could blink, and I took out a nine and pointed it at the shooter’s head. “Take him away,” I ordered, and two fellow teammates hauled him to the van.

“We have to get him back to New Eden,” the nurse yelled.

“On my way,” I stated.

Dahvie and the nurse grabbed Jackson and put him in the back of my truck. I jumped in the front seat, and I sped back home, blazing through the gate and straight to the medical facility. Doctors came out with a gurney and helped Jackson onto it. I climbed out of my truck and ran in with them as they wheeled him inside.

“I am sorry, Mademoiselle Hampton. You cannot go in with him,” a big bulky French guy told me, stepping in front of me as the doctors took Jackson to the operating area.

“Please,” I looked up at him with big, worried eyes.

“I cannot allow you into a sterile environment. Instead, I will sit with you in the waiting area,” he said, resting his big ham hands on my shoulders. “Come sit. I will fetch you espresso like they make back in Paris.”

“Thank you,” I replied, letting him take me to the waiting room.

_And the Fox begins to crack._


	7. A Light Lost

“My name is Jean-Luke, and I have been here for three weeks. I was a French exchange student at the University of South Carolina in Columbia,” the Frenchman explained. 

“Not that far away from here. Just across the river,” I commented, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves.

“Yes. Not far from here at all,” Jean told me, setting a cup of coffee in front of me. 

I fidgeted with my clothing, worried about Jackson. The silence stretched between the man sitting with me and I. A horde of nurses passed by us and went into the operation room. My attention zeroed in on the doors, expecting a doctor to come out.

Thirty gut wrenching, heart gripping, deathly silent minutes later, a doctor stepped out of the operating room, his gown covered in blood. I froze, and I watched him approach me. 

I didn’t hear what he said. I only saw his lips moving and heard the rushing of blood in my ears in tune with my heartbeat. But the message got across.

Jackson had lost too much blood and had died on the table. 

I blinked a few times. Once I could speak again, I asked if I could see him. 

I walked into the room with Jackson’s body. He looked as if he was asleep, and I had a small hope. I leaned over his face. The life of his skin was gone. He truly was gone.

Tears fell down my face. 

I couldn’t protect my best friend. 

I couldn’t save the man I loved.

I couldn’t breathe.

“Miss Hampton?” a soft voice called. 

I felt the walls shrink in and the tunnel vision kick into overdrive. I turned around in a blur, and I ran out the doors and down the corridor. I flung open the exterior doors and burst outside. I saw Jackson’s parents walking up. 

Jane’s soft eyes met mine. “Did he suffer?” she asked, brokenhearted.

“I… I watched it happen,” I choked out, my heart ripping to shreds with every admission.

“There was nothing you could’ve done. It was a freak accident,” Arin rested his hand on my shoulder. “You’re not at fault here.”

“Go see him,” I whispered. 

They walked around me and went inside. I took off down the stairs, anger, self-hate, and loss filling my soul. I stomped to my truck. I climbed inside, and my shaking hands turned the key. I felt the engine roar to life, and I sped home. 

Slamming doors and stamping hard, I went up to my room. I flopped down on my bed, and I screamed into my pillow. Screamed and sobbed until I was hoarse and couldn’t breathe through my nose. 

Mom came in and held me. Dahvie joined us not long after, both of them taking turns rubbing my back and rocking me back and forth. Mom encouraged me to drink a little hot green tea, and Dahvie fetched some tissues.

“I didn’t save him,” I mumbled. 

“Sweetheart, no one could’ve done anything. Jackson would’ve died either way. Not only was his shoulder demolished by the shot, shrapnel had punctured many of his throat’s vital blood vessels,” Dahvie explained. 

“He spent his final moments with you,” Mom resorted to braiding my hair with her skillful fingers. 

“I feel better,” I said quietly. 

“Come on. Let’s go find that gift he had for you,” Dahvie took my hands and helped me to my feet. 

We entered Jackson’s room, and Dahvie went to Jackson’s desk where he found a very simple wooden box. He handed it to me, and I opened it. Inside was a simple wooden heart painted seafoam green on a metal chain. I smiled and took the necklace out. Dahvie handled putting the necklace around my neck and fastening it shut. I breathed softly as he did so, holding my hair up as he looked in at the tiny metal clasp.

“Done,” he said.

I turned around to face him, and I took the pendant in my hands, feeling it, rubbing it, falling in love with the texture. Dahvie stared at me for a moment before looking away.

“I appreciate it,” I glanced at his face, and I saw the light die in his hazel eyes.

“I didn’t have anything to do with it, Savannah. It was him. It was never me. It was always him,” Dahvie said in an insistent tone.

“Because you found someone else,” I told him.

“Yeah, and she’s cheating on me. That baby isn’t mine, Savannah,” he shouted. “She doesn’t want me to be her husband anymore.” 

“Then give her an ultimatum,” I turned his face to look at me, giving him the best advice I could considering my state of mind. “She stays and is faithful, or she doesn’t and moves in with whoever she’s cheating on you with.” 

“Alright. I’ll take your advice,” he sighed, resting a hand on my shoulder. “Go get some sleep. You’ll need it.”

I returned to my room, finding Rex sitting on the edge of my bed with Jake. Jake gave me a soft nod, and he pulled back the sheets on my side of the bed, ushering me to sleep.

And I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. 

***

“So you guys are moving to Denali?” I heard Jake say to Jackson’s parents as I woke up. 

“Yes, we can’t stay here much longer. As for Jessica and her son, they’ll be coming with us as well,” Arin’s voice was calm. 

I climbed out of bed and walked into the hallway. Jackson’s parents had packed their bags. And so had Jessica, who was holding her son and weeping quietly. (Served that bitch right.)

Dahvie sat back against the door to the small apartment above the garage, a smug countenance but a sad smile shattering the triumphant facade. I walked over to him and leaned against the door, sighing. He looked up at me, asking “what?” in a silent glint in his eye.

“Nothing. I’m glad you kicked her out,” I told him in a soft voice. 

“Eh, it’s nothing,” he turned to watch Jessica carry her bags downstairs to a waiting SUV.

I smirked to myself. “Is there a weight off your chest?” I asked him.

“You could say so,” he hummed softly before giving me puppy dog eyes. “Are you doing any better?”

“It’s… it’s there, it’s real. But I’ll be okay,” I rubbed the top of his head, getting my fingers in his hair. 

“Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?” he questioned.

I gave him a small nod, and Jake emerged from his and my room with Rex in a dog sweater. I threw my arms around my boys, and I gave them a tight squeeze. Even as the cracks in my world began to widen, I found myself secure with the company of Jake, Rex, Dahvie, and Mom


	8. A New Role

Dahvie and I laid down next to each other, facing one another with gentle smiles on our faces. Dahvie held my hands in his, massaging them as the time past. My hands had always swollen up at awkward times and throbbed in terrible pain. One of those times had occurred then.

Dahvie sighed quietly, resting his own hands for a moment. I sighed as well, tired. I tucked a stray lock behind my ear. Dahvie handed me the crochet project I had put down. 

“Feeling better having me here?” I asked him. 

“Kind of,” he sighed quietly. 

“I know it’ll never truly fix the problems between us that still resonate even now. But I’m here for you,” I said, taking my time on a slip stitch join. 

“I hope you’ll find some sort of comfort,” he touched my shoulder. 

“I hope you do as well,” I told him, rolling over to face the other side. 

***

I awoke at 5:37 am, and I found myself unable to sleep. I stood up out of bed, groomed myself, and got dressed for the day. I headed downstairs and made a steaming cup of coffee, light and sweet. I yawned and stretched before checking the cabinets for food. I prepared a breakfast bowl from the freezer and sat down on the front porch to eat. 

Rex joined me, nosing my elbow for a bite of food. I fed him a few potatoes, and his big jaws snapped them right up. I chuckled softly to myself. Then, for just a moment, I watched him.

“You wanna go for a walk?” I asked him.

His mouth fell open with his tongue lolling out like a gag. His tail thumped quietly against the porch. I got up and put away the leftover food I didn’t eat, and I leashed Rex up. 

“C’mon, bubba,” I encouraged him. 

Take me away. 

Rex led me across the bridge to Island Denali. The soft whispers of the waves provided white noise to my busy mind. Jackson was gone, and the man I used as comfort hated me because of problems long before people started eating each other. 

“Only if,” I laughed out loud, as if life was some big joke.

“Miss Hampton?” a quiet voice called. 

“Yeah, who is it?” I turned around. 

A gangling boy my age with a pump shotgun in his hands stared at me, brown eyes wide with concern. “My name is Simon Collins, Miss Hampton. I-I was friends with Jackson,” he stated, voice shaking. 

“Oh,” I said, approaching him. “You miss him too?”

“Yeah, he was an asshole but he was a good guy,” Simon giggled sadly. He let two tears fall down his face. “I miss him,” he huffed. 

“I miss him too. Where’s your post?” I asked, pulling on Rex’s leash. 

“Uh, I’m Gatewatch, ma’am.” He bolted to attention. “Guarding the bridge from Denali to Mustang, ma’am.”

“Drop the formalities, kid. I’m no hero, I’m no superior officer, and I’m no saint.” I shifted my weight. 

“Yes, uh, Savannah.”

I gazed at him for a moment. “Is there a cafe on Denali?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered, blinking in surprise. 

“Alert your superior officer and escort me,” I stated formally.

“Yes, ma’am.” He got on his radio and relayed the message. 

XXX

I sat in a small garage, sipping a cup of iced coffee while Simon practically inhaled a B.L.T. sandwich. My thoughts drifted, and I snapped out of it. I yawned softly and stretched. Rex did the same and licked up scraps from the floor. 

Our waitress, a skinny Asian woman named Kiko, topped off Simon’s Coke and my iced coffee. I thanked her, and she blushed just a little. 

“Kiko’s a lesbian,” Simon murmured softly. “She thinks you’re cute.” 

“Oh,” I breathed softly. 

“Yeah, her girlfriend died on a raid of another camp,” Simon said, shrugging. 

“Wait, what?” I was taken aback. 

“Yeah, you didn’t know that Valdez ordered scouting parties to raid other camps?” Simon’s eyes widened. 

 

“No.”

“You know why Jackson died? Because he knew too much,” Simon looked out the window. 

“My boyfriend, the man I wanted to marry, the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, knew too much?” I stated.

“Yes,” Simon coughed out the words. “There’s a resistance forming against her reign. Believe it or not, people are starving. She’s talking about returning to capitalism. And there’s people here that can’t work. Can you imagine what that will do?” Simon explained.

“So you’re putting together a rebellion, then?” I sipped my coffee again. 

“And you would make a fine leader of it,” Simon smiled at me. “Will you join us?”

“Anything to avenge the death of my beloved, and save the people of New Eden,” I replied. “When do I start?” 

“Consider that now,” Simon insisted. “We have to go.” 

Simon, Rex, and I left the small cafe and headed back to my home. Dahvie was waiting for me. He hugged me and kissed my forehead protectively. 

“Hello, Commander Blake,” Simon saluted. 

“Simon, at ease. Right now I’m just Dahvie,” Dahvie spoke kindly. 

“Sorry, sir.” My new comrade relaxed. “She’s been briefed.”

“Has she now?” Dahvie chuckled softly, putting a hand to the small of my back. “Thanks kid. Head on back to your position.” 

“Sir, yes, sir,” Simon exclaimed before stepping out.


End file.
